


It's Not Quite Soul-Searching But There's Plenty of Introspection Nonetheless

by octachoronAdrift



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubble meeting, Dream Bubbles, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octachoronAdrift/pseuds/octachoronAdrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You find yourself while in the dream bubbles. It's more of a literal self-discovery than any philosophical one, and it isn't one of happenstance or soul-searching, either. You literally find yourself.</p><p>You have a lip ring and tattoos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Quite Soul-Searching But There's Plenty of Introspection Nonetheless

You find yourself while in the dream bubbles. It's more of a literal self-discovery than any philosophical one, and it isn't one of happenstance or soul-searching, either. You literally find yourself.

You have a lip ring and tattoos.

Or rather, she does, this alternate universe version of yourself. Porrim Maryam of Beforus. Seductively dressed and with an air of confidence that projects from her being like the shimmer of light radiating from freshly turned rainbow drinkers, she reminds you a bit of yourself at nine, if more potent and even more comfortable in her own skin.

She's the exact same height as you, already fully-grown at nine sweeps, though you expect your age might win you the contest if only for the sake of horn length.

She walks up to you, her blank eyes presumably locked with yours.

"At the risk of sounding horribly narcissistic, It's an honor to meet you." Her voice is an echo of your own, only less worn down by age. There's a solemnity and sincerity present in its cadence that you _know_ yours lacked when you were her age, and you're struck by how similar, yet so very different she is. You know you can't expect anything more or less, but the idea still unnerves you somewhat.

"I'm not entirely certain honor is strictly necessary. It's only me."

Porrim raises an eyebrow and - she's only nine, she shouldn't make you feel ashamed of your modest statement - puts her hand on her hip. You are distinctly reminded of yourself scolding your son when he got into trouble as a wriggler.

"You raised the Signless from a grub to adulthood. Sometimes, I can barely handle Kankri for ten minutes." You smile. Your son could be trying at times, and you've heard stories of his Beforan self. "You're an incredibly strong woman. I'm sorry for what you went through."

You feel your cheeks flush green, warmth blossoming onto your skin - you aren't used to being complimented. She seems to note this and grins, the same wicked smile you yourself would flaunt when you got your way, when you were eight and had the world in front of you. It suits her.

"Thank you."


End file.
